Let's Exchange Our Demons Tonight
by TheRoseShadow21
Summary: "It's what I told her- this is part of my past. Is there any use wondering who I was before? I don't think so. I'm can't find him anyway. There are three little girls that need me, he thought. Children with their own demons. It's not about me, anymore." Hamatora Epilogue: Nowhere accompaniment piece. Oneshot, no romance, Rated T for various reasons.


**Just an idea I'd had floating around for sometime involving Art and my OC Flame from my epilogue fic. You might notice there isn't any real closure or trite words that just instantly make everything okay, but that there is some resolution. That is precisely the point of this- they're 'exchanging demons' and starting the process of healing.**

 **Anyway, enough of my babble. I hope you enjoy the story and please leave feedback!**

The lights of the torch and the night-light marked out her presence as she sat, leaning against the door, lost in her own thoughts. Her face was both illuminated and hidden in shadows, giving the impression of a goddess, or some other immortal creature. And in the contradiction of dark and light, he could see the nightmares that had driven him from his bed.

Art had to remind himself that she was just a scared fourteen year old with no real identity.

"Flame-Chan?" he whispered hesitantly. When Flame turned to face him, some of the shadows disappeared. Her brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Art." She stated, simply. Her voice, although strong, shook slightly. He felt a wave of sorrow for her. This girl, who had spent four years in captivity, but who hadn't really had all that much going for her before that. A child of the streets, she might have just slipped through the gaps if Nice and Hajime had come in time. Yet she was still trying to be brave, for the sake of the two little girls she called her sisters. Speaking of which…

"Are Sanae-Chan and Laksha-Chan asleep?" he asked her. Flame nodded.

"But they're still not safe." Flame explained, confidently, holding up the torch. Her eyes dared him to challenge her.

"Are they still scared?" he asked, instead. He knew that she was just as terrified of the situation-it was why he had found the torch for her when the three of them had come to live with him a week and a half ago-but she wouldn't admit it. Not at all, which was why he had framed the question in terms of the younger girls.

"Hmmm." She said, deliberately turning away from him. "I'm keeping guard. Now maybe Laksha can sleep safe."

 _And what about you, child?_ He wondered. Sighing, he put aside his plans to make himself a warm, milky drink and sat down next to her on the floor. Not too close, but not so far that it would render his efforts pointless. He turned to see what she made of him sitting with her. Although she was as friendly towards him as her sisters were (although nobody could be as open-hearted as Sanae), there was a distance to her warmth. So he wasn't sure how his efforts would be received.  
Flame looked at him, her eyes as wide as they were when he had stepped out of his room.

"Do you do this all the time?" he asked, gesturing to the torch. Flame nodded.

"Yeah, but I don't usually see you. You're usually asleep. Are you starting to have nightmares too? " There was an accusatory tone to the last question.

"I always have nightmares, Flame-Chan." He answered, trying to diffuse the blame. "It's just that I decided to do something about them tonight. You can't always lie there and let your demons persecute you, am I right?"

"With all due respect, Art-san, Laksha's a child. She's innocent." He noticed that she didn't ask about his nightmares. Rightly so.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. "Art noticed the dark circles under Flame's eyes. _This is too much for a child. I'm aware of that now. But how can I help?_

"Then, what did you mean?"

Gasuke, The Freemums, Moral, Skill, Nice, The Regeneration Minimum. Murdering, betraying, destroying, over and over again. The jealousy that had fuelled it all. What did he mean? He wasn't sure, anymore.

 _Ah, I'm tired._

"Do you want a drink, Flame-san?" he asked, instead. She regarded him, then nodded.

"I won't be long." He said reassuringly, and went down to prepare two mugs of warm milk. As soon as he had finished, he brought the mugs up.

"Careful, they're hot." Flame grasped the mug with both hands, seemingly unbothered by the heat. She sipped at the milk and closed her eyes blissfully for a moment. Art observed while she was absorbed in sipping at the drink. The torch he had brought her soon after the three girls had come to live with him now rested in her lap. The nightdress she wore was one that Koneko had grown out of, while the cardigan over it was one Honey had accidentally bought in the wrong size. The hairband she used to gather her hair together was one from a set selected by Rei. Her slippers were ones that had once belonged to Murasaki. He could go on. There were so many examples of how his friends had helped them, when rightly they should have abandoned him.

 _How can I forgive myself?_

"I think I might be a Minimum holder." Flame said, unexpectedly. Art blinked, and realised he had been staring. Now he tried to compute what was essentially a change in subject.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, carefully. His feelings about Minimums were mixed, to say the least, even if he'd come to some kind of acceptance. He wasn't about to poison the girl with his influences. It was her Minimum, after all. Assuming she had one.

"I don't burn. Set me on fire, and I'll be fine. Hot temperatures don't even bother me." She said, simply. It certainly explained the way she held the mug like its temperature wasn't an issue.

"That could just be an increased tolerance…"

"I walked through a burning building, unscathed. I would have been about eight, and this was an old, abandoned warehouse where other homeless people lived. It burnt down one night as I was trying to sleep, and I escaped. Nobody else did."

Art remembered a news story about an arson from that time. Some of the homeless who had died had been children, which had angered Three to no end. He'd been in a mood for days, and it seemed that only Honey and the orphans brought him peace until the story had become old news. It was around the time Flame would have been the age she said she had been. So it seemed logical. That, and the pain in her voice as she described them.

"What was that?" he asked, realising Flame had said something else. She glared at him.

"I. Killed. Them. " she enunciated. "I saved my own skin first. I killed them." Guilt radiated off her. He should know. It was the same guilt he carried around, every day, despite the therapy he'd attended.

"Did you set the fire? Did you order someone else to set the fire?" He asked. Flame's eyes widened, and then she seemed to think about it.

"No…."

"Then you didn't kill them." He told her, simply. She didn't deserve to have that weight on her. Unlike him. He deserved his torment.

"What would you know?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He looked at her evenly. He knew what she saw. Pale skin, good hair, clean clothes. Serenity, calmness, charisma. Someone whom little kids liked to talk to. A 'fairy-tale prince' as Nice insisted on describing him.

 _The person I was before. Or the person that I pretended to be before. Which one is it?_

Carefully, still looking at her, he rolled up his sleeves. Time had caused him to scar, so he knew what he wanted to show her would still be there. The proof of how he could not die, despite wanting to. His desire to escape, to not face what had in the end been a colossal mistake. It was there.

"I cannot kill myself. I can shoot, stab, dismember myself-or get someone to do it for me- but I won't die. Instead, I'll just grow back. The Regeneration Minimum. That's what I have. I killed others because of it. " He told Flame as she stared.

"Vertical cuts…" she murmured. "You know to use vertical cuts. Honoka, Petal, Cherry, Mika. They didn't know…" Her interest in his scars scared him a little. He breathed in slightly, and tried to remain calm as he responded.

"It's not a good thing, Flame-san. In the end, I'm still here. Still atoning for my crimes."

"But you took us in, even though they wanted to separate us." She stated innocently, still entranced by the scars.

"This was before you. Before your sisters were born."

"You can't have done anything that bad."

"Oh, I have. I really did. And I regret it, I regret it all…"

"And it still haunts you." Flame finished. She sipped the last bits of her drink, and then set the cup down beside her. She tore her eyes away from his scars and returned to looking straight ahead. The shadows played with her features again, but Art didn't see demons this time. Or rather, he didn't see his. He just saw hers, ones who had no business being there.

"It's haunting you, too, isn't it?" he asked. Flame nodded.

"It gets better. Or rather, it doesn't, because you can't get rid of the past. You just live with it, as trite as that sounds." He said. He should know. At least, in theory he should. He was functioning, barely. But it wasn't too late for Flame. Perhaps he could change her story, teach her to live instead of merely survive.

"And people don't hate you, for what you've done?" she asked.

"I'm sure there are plenty who do, but Nice and Hajime-they're the ones who found all of you- are just some of the people I've hurt." He didn't finish his point, wanting her to work it out and let it sink in. She frowned as she fiddled with the torch, and then turned to answer him. But instead of speaking, she yawned. She rubbed her eyes, and the torch fell from her lap.

"You're tired. Perhaps we'll talk more in the morning. " he said, kindly. He was willing to tell her about his demons. Not all of them, but enough for her to understand it was okay to forgive herself, that what had happened to her wasn't her fault.

"I…I'm fi-" Flame yawned mid-sentence and her eyes drooped. Smiling, Art stood up and walked over to crouch in-front of her.

"Go to bed, Flame-san. " he ordered, gently. "Should I carry you?" he asked, on an impulse.

Flame considered him, and then reached out to pull his sleeves down, before nodding and yawning again. Continuing to smile, he carefully scooped her up, the way he'd seen Three do with his orphans, the way Ratio and Chiyuu did with their young sons. Then, he carefully went into the bedroom, taking care to not wake up Sanae and Laksha as he set Flame down on the bed between them. Almost as if by instinct, Laksha turned over in her sleep to cuddle up to her sister, and Flame started to put her arm around her before she herself fell asleep. Art adjusted their quilt, picked up Hifumi the bunny from the floor and put it _(him?)_ down next to Sanae's sleeping form, before silently stepped out of the room, with the intention of taking the mugs down, and then attempting to go back to sleep.

Then he saw the torch, still on the floor.

He stared at it, and all the memories that plagued him danced around his head. Gasuke, the Freemums, Moral, Skill, Nice, The Regeneration Minimum. Murdering, betraying, destroying, over and over again. The jealousy that had fuelled it all.

 _It's what I told her- this is part of my past. Is there any use wondering who I was before? I don't think so. I'm can't find him anyway. There are three little girls that need me,_ he thought. _Children with their own demons. It's not about me, anymore._ Sighing, he set the two mugs in a corner. Then, he sat where Flame had been sitting before, and picked up her torch, settling it in his lap.

As he fell asleep, he thought about how maybe Flame and her sisters would be able to sleep easy, at least, even if he couldn't.


End file.
